The Restoration Garden: A Novel - 28

Irene

I ran until I found a telephone box a safe enough distance away. My mind raced with too many thoughts while my hands fumbled to find a coin for the call.

“Number, please,” the operator’s crisp voice rang out, shaking me back to the present.

I gave the number for Havenworth.

“Havenworth residence,” a quiet female voice said in a rush.

“Annie? Is that you?”

“Miss Clarke?”

“Yes, it’s me.” The sweet familiarity of her voice reminded me there was still hope. “I need to talk to my father. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry, miss. He’s not here.”

“Lady Montgomery, then.”

“She’s not here either.”

“Margaret?”

“No. They’ve all left.”

“What do you mean they’ve all left? When will they be back?”

I could hear her hesitation. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone where they are.”

“They don’t have to know it was you who told me. I won’t say anything.”

She sighed deeply. “I suppose they didn’t mean you when they told me not to tell anyone.”

My stomach clenched. I had no doubt those instructions were explicitly meant for me.

“They’re in London.”

“What? No! That makes no sense. Why on earth would they be in London?”

She hesitated again. “Well, you see . . . it’s Margaret. Since you left, her cough has been getting much worse. Lady Montgomery has been beside herself with worry. They’re visiting a specialist in the city.”

My family was in London. The last place they would ever be safe from James. “Please, Annie. You must tell me where they’re staying. It’s a matter of life or death.”

“Is everything all right, miss?” Annie asked cautiously.

Things were so far from all right that I nearly laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. “No, Annie. It’s not. But if you can tell me where they are, I might be able to help them.”

“They didn’t tell me that. I’m sorry.”

I muttered a curse. “Is there anything you can tell me that would give me some kind of a clue how to find them?”

I squeezed the handset tightly in the seconds of silence that followed. Finally, she said, “Lady Montgomery wrote down the name of the specialist. Dr. Houghton. I’m not sure when the appointment is, though.”

“That’s okay, Annie. You’ve helped more than you know.”

The operator was able to give me the number for Dr. Houghton’s clinic. I called, pretending to be my stepmother. The receptionist confirmed the address and the time of Margaret’s appointment, which was only an hour from when I placed the call.

They must have already gone inside by the time I arrived. I sat down on a park bench across the street and waited.

Time passed agonizingly slowly. An early-autumn chill had settled over the city today, bringing with it a drizzle of rain. I had no umbrella. Not even a proper coat. Just a long-sleeved jumper that had become too damp for warmth.

Finally, after almost an hour of waiting, the clinic’s door opened. Lady Montgomery stepped out first. Margaret and Charlie came next, huddled close together. Hope swelled inside me at the sight of her dark curls and bright-red raincoat. It had been almost two months since I’d seen my sister. When I left Havenworth, I feared I would never see her again. Now, I feared she wouldn’t want to see me at all. But I had to try. I had to warn them before Father got on that train.

I leaped to my feet and hurried across the street to catch up with them. “Margaret!”

She turned around, staring at me blankly as though I were a stranger. I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a gasp. She was so thin. The soft roundness of her face had vanished, leaving hollowed cheeks and a purple cast beneath her eyes. What had happened to her since I’d left? She’d been unwell before, but not like this.

It was my stepmother who spoke first. “Irene?” She wrapped an arm around each of the children.

“Thank god I found you,” I said, still breathless from the effort. I reached for my sister, desperate to hug her after such a long absence, but she reared back, tucking herself farther into her mother’s protective grasp.

“What are you doing here?” Lady Montgomery asked.

“I need to speak to Father about something vitally important.”

“He couldn’t come. He had to—” Lady Montgomery’s mouth snapped shut, as though she’d already said too much.

“I know he’s going to Liverpool tomorrow, and I know why. But I can’t let him do that,” I said. “It’s not safe for him.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No!” I looked to Margaret, then Charlie. Surely they couldn’t believe I was capable of that. Except the fear on each of their faces told me otherwise. “I can explain.”

“I hope you do,” Lady Montgomery said with a graveness I had never heard from her before.

I drew in a breath. “James knows about the cavity magnetron. He’ll do whatever it takes to stop Father from taking it to America.”

My stepmother’s face hardened. “You told him about your father’s work? How could you betray your father like that? How could you put him in that kind of danger?”

“I . . .” The words died in my throat. I had told James about the cavity magnetron. I deserved every bit of my stepmother’s anger.

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve with this stunt, but I won’t hear another word of it. You’ve done enough damage to our family already.” She tugged at the children’s shoulders, urging them to leave.

“Please, Margaret,” I said to my sister. “You cannot let him get on that train. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about something like this.”

“I don’t believe you,” she shouted. “You’re lying. Just like you lied when you said you would never leave me!”

The hurt in her voice was so terrible, I could barely breathe. “I’m so sorry, Margaret. I should never have left Havenworth. I made a terrible choice to run off with James. He never loved me. This whole time he was using me to target Father.” My voice choked off. The shame of my foolishness was unbearable, but it was the only way to make them understand. “But I’m not lying now. You have to believe me—I’m trying to keep Father safe. To keep you all safe.”

I dropped to my knees against the cold concrete, silently pleading with my sister to see the truth. She was the one person who had always believed the best in me. If Margaret didn’t listen to me, no one would.

Her chin quivered, uncertainty warring in her sweet face. I reached for her, desperately wanting to wash away all her fears and doubts.

She batted my hand away with a viciousness I didn’t expect.

“I hate you,” she hissed. “And I never want to see you again. Ever.”

The force of her words knocked me backward. There was so much anger in her voice. So much rage. She meant every word. She would never forgive me. And I couldn’t save her.

My grief overtook me as she spun on her patent leather shoes and ran off, Lady Montgomery and Charlie tailing after her. My chest heaved, my body convulsing with anguish. I hadn’t been there for Margaret when she needed me. I hadn’t believed my fierce, beautiful sister was capable of succumbing to illness. The guilt of it was too much.

Something brushed my arm, so faint I almost didn’t believe it at first. When I looked up, it wasn’t Margaret standing in front of me, but Charlie.

He stared at me with those big, endless eyes, full of pity. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and pulled him into the tightest embrace. He was still so painfully skinny, but he hugged me back firmly.

“I believe you,” he whispered in my ear so quietly, there was no chance of anyone else hearing.

“Thank you,” I said, running my hand along the soft hair on the back of his head. “I’ll find a way to fix things. I promise. Just don’t let anyone get on that train.”

It was too much responsibility to put on a boy his age. But what other choice did I have?

I followed Charlie, Margaret, and Lady Montgomery into the tube station. I had gotten all too capable at trailing people undetected over the last month. They were staying at a small inn a few stops over from the church in a quiet part of East London—far enough from where the bombs had fallen every night for the last few weeks that they should be safe, but I couldn’t help myself from worrying anyway.

I lingered outside the inn, peering into storefronts in an effort not to draw attention to myself. I didn’t have a plan. Not a real one, at least. I just knew I couldn’t let Father on that train tomorrow.

A woman dressed in coveralls and an air raid warden’s helmet with a white “W” on the front ran down the street, gesturing animatedly at the pedestrians before finally approaching me.

“Best be getting inside soon, miss. Jerry’s sure to make another appearance tonight.” She was young—no older than me—and pretty, with thick curls tucked into her helmet, but the frown lines between her eyes were etched deep.

“It’s not even dusk,” I said.

“Word is, Jerry’s coming early today. They’ve been raiding the rest of the coast since the morning.”

“I’ll be on my way soon,” I said, despite the anxiety coursing through me.

She stepped past me to approach someone else.

“Wait,” I called after her. “Can you tell me where the closest shelter is? In case I don’t make it home in time.”

“The underground station just down the street over there.” She pointed to the station I had emerged from a short while ago. “You’ll want to hurry over. It gets mighty crowded, with lines all the way up to the street some nights. There’s no other shelter for at least a mile.”

I shuddered, trying to imagine so many people crammed into such a dank, uncomfortable space for the night. No beds, no toilets. People lined up next to each other like sardines in a tin. But the alternative was far worse: risking the collapse of your own home above you, the deafening wail of bombs shredding the streets, or the piercing cry of a neighbor trapped under rubble. At least here, as grim as it was, there was safety in numbers and the faint hope that the shelter’s walls might hold. “Thank you.”

She hurried off but was still distantly in sight when the sirens blared. Within seconds, people began streaming out of their homes toward the underground station. Most of them mothers and children, all of them knowing better than to hope for a false alarm.

Within minutes, the sirens wailed, followed by the ominous drone of the Messerschmitts. They were close. Too close.

It was only moments later that I saw my father emerge from the inn’s doors, carrying Charlie in one arm and Margaret in the other while my stepmother hurried after them. The enemy planes zoomed above with deafening speed, lighting waves of fear and panic. Margaret and Charlie weren’t supposed to be here in London in the middle of it all. They were supposed to be far away. Safe.

They’ll be okay, I reminded myself. They will survive a night in the shelter . It was up to me to ensure they survived the rest of the week.

As long as I survived the night as well.

Clutching my purse tightly, I began to run toward them, hoping a captive night together would give me the chance to convince them of the danger they were still in.

The boom of an explosion jolted me to a halt. The antiaircraft guns were out in force. But even with the lingering daylight, they were no match for the onslaught. The whistle of a bomb falling chilled my blood. The sky lit up in a horrible orange glow as another piece of London was destroyed.

Margaret was crying as Father ran toward the station, Charlie stoic. I wanted to chase after them, but I couldn’t. The only thing that mattered right now was their safety.

A different plan popped into my head in that moment. A stupid, reckless one.

Instead of running to safety as the planes surged above me, I ran back to the inn. The door was unlocked, the front counter empty. I knew there had to be a key cabinet somewhere. I found it on the back wall, left unlocked in the chaos. Four spare keys were tucked inside. I grabbed all of them and raced up the stairs to the guest rooms. A dim overhead bulb provided just enough light to see.

I didn’t know which room belonged to my family, so I started with the first door. A horrible crash ripped through the air just as I inserted the key. The floor and walls shook violently, sending terror coursing through me. The bombs were too close. I needed to work faster, but my hands refused to steady.

After a few moments of fumbling, the lock finally clicked open. Inside, a single suitcase lay open on the bed, clothes strewn everywhere. This wasn’t the right room. I ran to the next door.

Another bomb detonated nearby, the shock wave knocking me off my feet. The keys flew from my hands, skittering across the floor. I scrambled to pick them up and jammed the key into the lock. My chest squeezed tight when I saw my sister’s cherished teddy bear forgotten on the bed.

I tore through the room, yanking open drawers and tossing aside bedcovers. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, only that it had to be here. I dropped to my knees and felt beneath the bed. In desperation, I yanked the bed frame away from the wall. The faint light glinted off a small metal briefcase. It was less than two feet in length, but surprisingly heavy for its size.

This was the precious cargo Father was transporting—the only reason for him to get on that train tomorrow morning. But he had left it behind for the sake of his children. He must have believed it would be safer here than in a crowded underground station with hundreds of other people—too many of whom had sticky fingers. After all, no one was supposed to know what he was carrying.

But I did. And so did James.

Father would never forgive me for stealing it, but it was the only way to keep him from getting on that train tomorrow.

Using a hatpin my stepmother had left behind, I quickly scrawled a message on the back page of my sketchbook and left it on the bed so there would be no doubt who had taken the briefcase if I didn’t survive the night.

I wondered, briefly, what James would think of me as I absconded with stolen goods like the common criminals he employed for his black-market hustle. He probably wouldn’t believe it even if he saw me. He had underestimated me from the start, using me like a disposable pawn, but I wasn’t a fool. Not anymore.

Just as I exited the inn’s door, a man stepped in front of me. I nearly crashed into him, stopping myself just short of where he stood. My breath caught in my throat when I recognized his dark hair and broad shoulders.

“Irene?” Father’s eyes, wide with shock, gazed down at the metal briefcase in my hand.

I wanted to reach for him once more and feel his embrace. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened over the last few months, but there was no explanation that would ever earn his forgiveness.

“One day you’ll understand,” I said in a choked voice.

He was too stunned to chase after me as I disappeared into an alleyway.